


The Rush

by MrsNoggin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC trailer, Chases, Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fill, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNoggin/pseuds/MrsNoggin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill - 'Write me something that includes the words of the BBC drama trailer. 'The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the two of us against the the rest of the world.' And stamp the hell right back at them!'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it's OK, my love. I am so grateful for your help and support and prompts! You are a life-saver.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr - [KatoftheNoggin](http://katofthenoggin.tumblr.com).

Sherlock Holmes is the most dangerous man in the world.

No one else can make John so stupid. Nor so happy.

He has spent his life fighting other people’s battles, never before has he made them so much his own. Now when he is sprinting through dark streets, his hip aching, gun heavy in his hand, he fights for no one else but him, him and Sherlock. Nothing else need exist but the pair of them, the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through their veins, just the two of them against the rest of the world.

Rounding a corner he sees the dark billowing shape of Sherlock disappearing round the next building and takes a deep filling breath, expanding his lungs with excitement and oxygen, and skids around after him.

There is no knowledge of what could be waiting there for them, but still there is no hesitation. Death has shown its face so many times it has ceased to be threatening; just another face, another force to taunt. And taunt it they do, day in and day out.

All that is waiting for him around the corner is darkness. John struggles to place himself, but revels in the uncertainty, the thud of adrenaline in his stomach. There is a heavy stinging smell of oil and urine in the air and then nothing as a hot body encased in a chilled coat, presses him up against rough brick.

“John.” Sherlock is panting, his chest heaving as he desperately draws in and expels air, twisting the sound of John’s name into something beautifully obscene.

John laughs, though he’s not sure what at. "You are _fucking_ insane!"  
  
"Yes, I am rather,” he agrees with a breathy chuckle, “But don't you just love it?"  
  
"God, yes." And once again there is no hesitation, just the crash of lips and the grasp of clutching hands. 


End file.
